Chapter 5: The Lot

At eight the next morning, the gate of the county impound lot rolled open for me.

Frances had filed before breakfast, and a judge had signed before nine.

The order let me leave the house for two hours, with a deputy, to inspect the black sedan.

It sat alone in the far row, under a gray sky, with the passenger door shut now.

Beside it stood a woman from the sheriff's crash unit with a camera around her neck.

On her other side, in a navy suit with worn cuffs, stood Duncan McGowan.

"Mrs. Kershaw," he said.

"Mr. McGowan."

"Ms. Whitaker." He nodded to Frances. "The court ordered both sides present. I'm here for the State."

"I know who you work for," I said.

He didn't answer that. He turned to the crash technician instead. "Show her the car."

I crouched at the open driver's door.

The seat sat in the middle of its track.

"This is not where it was," I said.

"You were asleep, Mrs. Kershaw," Duncan said. "You can't know where it was."

"I know where my knees were. They were against the wheel."

The technician cleared her throat.

"I took scene photos at one in the morning," she said. "Eleven of the interior."

"I send everything to the District Attorney's office, per protocol."

"Marlow's District Attorney," Duncan said.

"Yes, sir."

"Marshall Kershaw."

"Yes, sir."

He took a very slow breath. "I was given thirty-seven photos. None of them were of the interior."

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